The Egyptian (53 page)

I looked at my face and was greatly shocked, for it was smeared with Mehunefer’s paint. Her mouth had left red patches on my cheeks and temples and on my neck. I appeared like a victim of the plague. Ashamed, I made speed to wipe my face while Merit mercilessly held the mirror.

When I had washed my face with oil, I said repentantly, “You have misunderstood the whole matter, Merit, my most dear. Let me explain.”

She looked at me coldly.

“No explanations are needed, Sinuhe, and I do not wish you to soil your lips with lies for my sake. That face of yours was impossible to misunderstand.”

I had much ado to soothe her. Muti burst into tears on her behalf. Covering her face, she retired to the kitchen, spitting her contempt for men in general. I had more difficulty in pacifying Merit than I had had in ridding myself of Mehunefer.

At last I cursed all women and said, “Merit, you know me better than anyone and should therefore be able to trust me. Believe that if I so wished I could explain the matter to your full satisfaction, but the secret may well belong to the golden house. For your own sake it is better that you should not learn it.”

Her tongue was sharper than the sting of a wasp as she retorted, “I thought I knew you, Sinuhe, but it seems there are abysses in your heart that I never even suspected. You do well to protect the woman’s honor, and far be it from me to pry into your secret. You are free to come and go as you will, and I thank all the gods that I had sense enough to preserve my freedom and refused to break the jar with you—that is, if you ever meant what you said. Ah, Sinuhe, how foolish I have been to believe your lying words, for you have been whispering those same words into beautiful ears all this evening—and I wish I were dead.”

I would have stroked her soothingly, but she drew back.

“Keep your hands away from me, Sinuhe, for you must be weary after rolling on the soft mats of the palace. I have no doubt that they are softer than my mat and that you found there younger and more beautiful companions than myself.”

So she went on, piercing my heart with small, smarting wounds until I thought I should go raving mad. Only then did she leave me, forbidding me even to accompany her to the Crocodile’s Tail. I should have suffered more keenly still at her going if my thoughts had not been raging within me like tempestuous seas and if I had not longed to be alone with them. I let her go, and I fancy she was amazed that I did so without protest.

I lay awake all that night, and as the hours went by my thoughts became clear and detached with the melting away of the wine fumes, and my limbs shook with cold because I had no one to warm me. I listened to the gentle trickle of the water clock. The water did not cease its flow, and time went by unmeasured so that I felt remote even from myself.

I said to my heart, “I, Sinuhe, am what my own actions have made me. Nothing else is of any significance. I, Sinuhe, brought my foster parents to an untimely death for the sake of a cruel woman. I, Sinuhe, still keep the silver ribbon from the hair of Minea, my sister. I, Sinuhe, have seen a dead sea monster floating on the water and the head of my beloved moving as crabs tore at her flesh. Of what importance is my blood? All was written in the stars before ever I was born, and I was predestined to be a stranger in the world. The peace of Akhetaton was a golden falsehood and this most terrible knowledge is but salutary; it has roused my heart from its slumber and convinced me that always I must be alone.”

When the sun rose in gold beyond the eastern hills, the shadows fled, and so strange is the heart of man that I laughed bitterly at the phantoms of my own brain. Every night abandoned children must have drifted with the current in boats tied with fowler’s knots, nor was the ashen color of my skin any evidence since a physician passes his days under roofs and awnings and so remains pale of complexion. No, in the light of day I could find no conclusive proof of my origin.

I washed and dressed, and Muti served me with beer and salt fish. Her eyes were red with weeping, and she despised me because I was a man. I then took a chair to the House of Life, where I examined patients, passing afterward by the deserted temple and out between the pylons, followed by the squawk of fat crows.

A swallow sped past me toward the temple of Aton, and I followed. The temple was not empty now. Many were there, listening to the hymns of Aton and raising their hands in his praise, while the priests instructed the people in Pharaoh’s truth. This in itself was of no great significance. Thebes was a large city, and curiosity might bring together a crowd in any part of it. I saw once more the carvings on the temple walls, and from the forty pillars Pharaoh Akhnaton gazed down on me with that face, which was so disturbing in its passion. I saw also the great Pharaoh Amenhotep sitting, old and frail, on his throne, his head bent beneath the weight of the double crown. Queen Taia sat beside him. Then I paused before a representation of Princess Tadukhipa of Mitanni making sacrifice to the gods of Egypt. The original inscription had been hewn away, and the new one declared that she was sacrificing to Aton although Aton was not worshiped in Thebes during her lifetime.

This image was carved in the old convention and showed her as a young and lovely woman, scarcely more than a girl. The little head beneath its royal headdress was beautiful, and her limbs delicate and slender. I gazed long upon the statue, while the swallow darted above my head with joyful twitterings, and I wept over the destiny of this lonely girl from a foreign land. For her sake I could have wished to be as beautiful as herself, but my limbs were heavy and soft and my head bald beneath the doctor’s wig. Thought had plowed furrows in my forehead, and my face was puffy with high living in Akhetaton. I could not imagine myself as her son. Nevertheless, I was profoundly moved and wept for her loneliness in Pharaoh’s golden house. And still the swallow darted joyfully about my head. I remembered the fine houses and the plaintive people of Mitanni; I remembered also the dusty roads and the threshing floors of Babylon and knew that youth had slipped past me forever and that my manhood had sunk into stagnation at Akhetaton.

Thus my day was spent, and when evening came, I went to the Crocodile’s Tail to eat and to be reconciled with Merit. She received me coldly and treated me like a stranger when she served me. When I had eaten, she asked, “Did you meet your beloved?”

I retorted irritably that I had not gone out after women but had worked in the House of Life and visited Aton’s temple. To make clear to her my sense of insult, I described minutely every step I had taken that day, but she regarded me throughout with a mocking smile.

“Never for a moment did I fancy that you had gone to visit women, for last night you were exhausted and are capable of nothing further, bald and fat as you are. I meant only that your beloved was here to ask for you, and I directed her steps to the House of Life.”

I sprang up so violently as to overturn my seat, and cried, “What do you mean, idiot woman?”

“She came here to seek you, arrayed like a bride; she had adorned herself with glittering jewels and painted herself like a monkey, and the reek of her ointments wafted as far as the river. She left you a greeting and a letter also, in case she should not find you—and from my heart I wish you would tell her to keep away, for this is a respectable house and she had the air of a brothel keeper.”

She handed me an unsealed letter, and I opened it with shaking hands. When I had read it, the blood surged into my head and my heart thudded in my breast. This is what Mehunefer wrote to me:

I read this terrible effusion several times without daring to look at Merit. At last she snatched the letter from my hand, broke the stick on which it was rolled, tore up the paper, and stamped on it, saying furiously, “I could have understood you, Sinuhe, if she were young and fair, but she is old and wrinkled and ugly as a sack though she slaps paint on her face as upon a wall. I cannot imagine what you are thinking of, Sinuhe! Your behavior makes you a laughing stock all over Thebes, and I, too, am made ridiculous.”

I rent my clothes and clawed at my breast and cried, “Merit, I have committed an appalling blunder, but I had my reasons and never dreamed that I should be visited with so terrible a retribution! Seek out my boatmen and bid them hoist sail. I must fly, or this abominable hag will come and lie with me by force, and I am powerless to keep her at a distance. She writes that she will fly to me more swiftly than a bird, and so I believe she may!”

Merit saw my fear and my anguish and seemed at last to understand, for she broke into helpless laughter. Finally she said, in a voice that still shook with mirth, “This will teach you to be more careful where women are concerned, Sinuhe, or so I hope. We women are fragile vessels, and I know myself what a magician you are, Sinuhe my beloved!”

Her mocking was merciless. With feigned humility she said, “Doubtless this fine lady is more delightful to you than I can be. At least she had had twice as many years in which to perfect herself in the arts of love, and I cannot presume to compete with her. I fear that for her sake you will cruelly cast me off.”

So acute was my distress that I took Merit to my house and told her everything. I told her the secret of my birth and all that I had wheedled out of Mehunefer. I told her also why I wished to believe that my birth had nothing to do with the golden house or the Princess of Mitanni. As she listened, she fell silent and laughed no more but stared past me into the distance. The sorrow in her eyes darkened, and at last she laid her hand on my shoulder.

“Now I understand much that was a riddle to me. I understand why your solitude cried out to me, voiceless, and why my heart melted when you looked at me. I too have a secret, and of late I have been sorely tempted to impart it to you, but now I thank the gods that I have not done so. Secrets are heavy to bear and dangerous. It is better to keep them to oneself than to share them. Yet I am glad you have told me everything. As you say, you will be wise not to fret yourself with vain brooding over what may never have happened. Forget it as if it were a dream, and I also will forget.”

I was curious to know her secret, but she would not speak of it, only touched my cheek with her lips, put her arm about my neck, and wept a little.

At length she said, “If you stay in Thebes you will have trouble with Mehunefer, who will persecute you daily with her passion until your life is made intolerable. I have seen such women and know how terrible they can be. The fault is partly yours in that you made her believe all manner of nonsense, and cleverly. It seems wisest for you to return to Akhetaton. First write to her and conjure her to leave you in peace, or she will pursue you and break the jar with you in your defenselessness. That is a fate I would not wish for you.”

Her counsel was good, and I set Muti to gathering up my belongings and rolling them in mats. I then sent slaves to seek out my boatmen in the taverns and pleasure houses of the town. Meanwhile, I composed a letter to Mehunefer, but being unwilling to wound her, I wrote with great courtesy, thus:

Merit shook her head at this letter, objecting that its tone was too gentle. In her opinion I should have expressed myself more curtly and told Mehunefer that she was an ugly old hag and that I was seeking escape from her persecution in flight. But I could not have written thus to any woman. After some argument Merit allowed me to roll up the letter and seal it although she continued to shake her head in foreboding. I sent a slave to the golden house with the letter and also the wine jar, to insure that on this evening at least Mehunefer would not pursue me. Believing myself rid of her, I heaved a sigh of relief.

When the letter was on its way and Muti was rolling my chests and coffers in mats for the journey, I looked at Merit and was filled with unspeakable sadness at the thought of losing her through my own stupidity. But for that I might well have remained in Thebes for some time to come.

Merit also seemed plunged in thought. Suddenly she asked, “Are you fond of children, Sinuhe?”

Her question bewildered me. Looking into my eyes she smiled a little sadly and said, “Have no fear! I do not intend to bear you any, but I have a friend with a four-year-old son, and she has often said how fine it would be for the boy to sail down the river and see the green meadows and the rolling plow land, and the water fowl and cattle, instead of the cats and dogs in the dusty streets of Thebes.”

I was much disturbed.

“You cannot mean me to take a rampaging infant on board to deprive me of my peace and bring my heart into my mouth continually for fear he may tumble overboard or thrust his arm into the jaws of a crocodile?”